


Sweet Fire Of Mercy

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-11 19:37:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/802412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt <a href="http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/19177.html?thread=43889641#t43889641">Eames gets Ariadne pregnant but wants nothing to do with the baby. There's no way Ariadne would consider abortion, but her family would be horrified if she had a baby without being married. So Arthur steps in, offering to play the part of Ariadne's husband for when she visits her family.</a></p><p>I basically followed the prompt, tweaking it a bit. Titles and epigraph from Jackson Waters' "Come Undone."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Too Far Down To Speak

Ariadne had designed the third level of the Fischer job with Eames in mind more than anything else. Fischer's fortress hospital could have been anywhere, but Eames had made an offhand comment about liking to ski but hating the weather. The two of them had gotten along very well during the planning stages, and he had that same flirtatious manner with her that he sometimes had with Arthur. While Arthur's gaze sometimes lingered over her or his touch at her wrist while taking out the PASIV leads was a shade too long, he never did or said anything that was outside the realm of professionalism. Eames, on the other hand, made it quite clear that he found her attractive and appreciated her quick thinking. The two of them discussed aspects of the inception that had to be carried into the architecture of each level, but her design for his level was a surprise. The first practice session had him gazing at everything in wonder.

"It's not even cold, really."

"It will be for the actual job," Ariadne told him with a small smile. "But for right now, I still control the temperature. You can ski to your heart's content."

"What if I want to do more than ski, darling?" he had teased.

Ariadne merely grinned at the suggestive leer he had playfully applied to his lips. She knew it was the kind of invitation that could be laughed off or backed away from gracefully.

Instead, she stepped forward and put her hands on his chest. "Why don't you show me what you had in mind?"

Sex on snow that wasn't cold and didn't melt was interesting. It was rather like a very soft feather bed, and Ariadne got a chance to see for herself just how lush those lips were and how talented that tongue of his was. She didn't have to worry about keeping quiet or being embarrassed about shouting too loudly when she came. Eames enjoyed the extra drops into dreaming, and used the time to creatively apply lips and teeth and tongue and hands to every inch of exposed skin. Even though it was a dream and he didn't necessarily have to worry about enough foreplay, he still enjoyed licking endlessly at her, swirling his tongue around her clit until she arched and nearly screamed at the sensation.

If he was a little smug after these sessions and extra sarcastic toward Arthur, the rest of the team didn't notice. The two had an adversarial relationship anyway.

Eames and Ariadne didn't have a formal relationship per se; by unspoken agreement the two of them kept everything purely physical and didn't discuss any emotional attachment they might have had for each other. Eames told her the first name he was currently using, some details about himself that may or may not have been true, and the kind of things he enjoyed doing. Ariadne told him about growing up, her architecture program and what drew her to dream share. Perhaps they were simply fooling themselves about the kind of relationship they had during the planning stages, but it seemed to work.

After the Fischer job, Eames waited all of two weeks to track her down at her tiny garret of an apartment in Paris. "You're finishing your degree, then?" he had asked her. Somehow Ariadne hadn't been surprised to find him sitting at her kitchen counter with a cup of tea in hand. She had simply nodded and deposited her bag of groceries next to him. "And then afterward? What are your plans for that?"

"Nothing yet. I haven't really looked for placement at a design firm. I really should if I plan to stay in legitimate architecture."

Eames had smiled at her then, slow and sensual, as if he knew a delicious secret. "Do you?"

"Are you offering me a job?"

"I might be."

"Is it anything like the last one?"

"Easier," he replied, shrugging. "No need to cut and run if it gets too dangerous, no threat of limbo. One level, not terribly complicated. It might actually be boring, darling."

"What's the payout?" she asked as she put groceries away.

"Only five figures."

Ariadne lofted an eyebrow at him. "Why do you say only?"

"Well, your cut would be only half of mine, since you wouldn't be out in the field. But I'm sure sixty thousand dollars is still fairly good for a start."

She managed not to choke in surprise, but simply nodded. "Yes, that would be."

Though her voice was even, Eames gave her a knowing smile. "In that case, let's start talking about this job, hm?"

It had all taken off from there. Over the next several months, Ariadne and Eames worked together on three more jobs. He somehow managed to find excuses to stay at her apartment for the duration of each job as well as in between them. They never actually labeled what they were, but every time they came together it was electric and dangerous and made Ariadne's toes curl inside her boots in exhilaration. Eames tasted like sin and his hands roaming across her flesh definitely were.

Eames was playful in bed, trying different positions or toys or flavored lubes to get a laugh out of her. "Sex is supposed to be fun," he told her when she teased him about the strawberry flavored lube. "If this tastes terrible, I'll get some other flavor. But since you like strawberries..."

"Well, licking the whipped cream off your stomach _was_ fun..." she began, waving the bottle in front of him. "We'll have to see about this one."

Ariadne didn't particularly like that one, though it warmed up quickly enough when she used it to tease Eames and stroke his prostate. Kneeling on one side of him, Ariadne leaned in to brush her nipples across his back as she slowly pumped her fingers in and out of him. Eames grasped her leg, sliding his fingers across the back of her knee. "Not fair," he managed to say between moans. "You don't let me do this to you."

"Maybe you just weren't convincing enough," she teased, giving her fingers a little twist. Eames bucked his hips and his hand tightened on her calf. "I could always stop..."

"Don't you dare," he growled, reaching behind him at an awkward angle to trace the back of her thigh. She shimmied back and away from his touch, laughing at his growls of frustration. "That's bloody cheating."

"Aren't you the one that said to do my worst?"

He moved fast then, shifting away from her and then pinning her down to the bed. He kissed her hard, tongue pushing into her laughing mouth. "I want to fuck you so hard," Eames growled against her mouth, one hand tangled in her hair.

Ariadne reached between them and thumbed his weeping cock. "Stop talking and start doing," she ordered, using her other hand to scratch at the arms holding him up.

Eames didn't need much more convincing than that. He was hard and thick inside her, moving as fast as she liked. This part was perfect, was everything she wanted. That they fit in other ways was a bonus. The same playfulness in the bedroom sometimes extended to the workplace, and they made a good team on jobs.

As far as she was concerned, there was no need to label what they had. It worked better than she had hoped it would.

***

Ariadne suppressed a yawn and tried to keep focused during the meeting. Their subject was a wealthy young man, the heir to a multimillion dollar corporation. He had a decidedly kinky side, playing around in fetish clubs and participating in lunches and meet ups for random sex romps as the masochistic submissive. That would make it easy for them to isolate him enough for extracting the account numbers and passcodes to tap into his inheritance. Normally Ariadne would listen closely during the planning stages so that she could get a better feel for the place she would have to build in the dreams.

Today, even an espresso didn't have enough caffeine to keep her awake. She looked down at her notebook and could barely even read what she had written. The writing was loopy and scrawled, in other places the sentence formations were disjointed and nonsensical.

Eames smirked at her when their point man wasn't looking. He noticed everything, and made faces at her. It helped keep her awake, though Ariadne tried to tell herself it was unprofessional of her. Still, sketching Eames making those faces at her was fun and allowed her to appear somewhat productive at the same time.

"Usually you're much more alert, darling. I didn't think I tired you out that much last night," Eames remarked after the team broke for the day. He enjoyed the low flush in her cheeks at the reminder, and smiled at her response.

"I didn't think so either," Ariadne replied, putting her hand on his arm. "But maybe you can see how you do tonight?"

He laughed and leaned down to kiss her. "Challenge accepted," mirroring her teasing tone.

***

The exhaustion didn't go away. If anything, it seemed to grow worse, a bone deep fatigue that seemed to make her even more sensitive to Eames' touch than before. His mouth over her breasts left her gasping, and he delighted in her response. A gentle swipe of his tongue over her clit was enough to leave her reeling, and it took so much less work to get her to come.

Of course, now she fell asleep almost immediately, arms locked around Eames.

"Are you sure you aren't coming down with something?" he remarked one afternoon. He found her yawning that afternoon, sketches and models all around her in the workspace. Eames was bringing her yet another cup of coffee and a pastry; she had been almost nauseous at the thought of food that morning and hadn't eaten anything more than a single slice of toast. "You're looking rather peaky, Ariadne."

"Tired and not feeling quite right," she agreed, taking the coffee. After gulping about half of it down she accepted the pastry. "Thanks."

"Definitely sounds like you're coming down with something," he mentioned in concern. He touched her forehead and gave her a fond smile at her pointed look. "Everyone does that, so I thought I'd add to the concerned experience." Eames tucked her hair behind her ear. "Get home early and sleep in for a bit. I can take a vacation from ravishing you." He dropped a kiss onto her forehead and picked up his jacket. "I'm off to follow Reiter's doctor for the second level anyway, so don't wait up for me. I've no idea how long it will take tonight, since the man tends to run late on all his appointments."

Ariadne snorted in amusement. "You haven't lived until you've waited over three hours for a GYN appointment you didn't even want to make in the first place."

"Can't say I'm likely to do that anytime soon, darling," Eames replied in a playful tone as he shrugged on his jacket. "See you later."

As Eames headed out of the door, Ariadne paused. With the mention of doctors and a GYN...

She frowned deeply as her eyes fell onto the calendar. Though she had been taking her birth control pills religiously, it only occurred to her at that very moment that she hadn't gotten her period in two months.

_Shit._

Well, it could be stress. She'd skipped periods before as a teenager when meeting deadlines for work and under unbelievable stress. It didn't necessarily mean anything more than that.

But they were relying on her pill packs, since Ariadne liked the feel of skin against skin and hated having to pause and roll on a condom. Eames had been more than happy to go along with her wishes.

It didn't necessarily mean anything, but there was a feeling of dread in the pit of Ariadne's stomach. Her instincts were screaming at her now, and she trusted her instincts.

She was buying home pregnancy tests on the way to the hotel suite she and Eames were calling home for the duration of this job. Just in case.

***

Two lines.

Her vision blurred, though she didn't realize she was even crying. This had to be a mistake, even though the second line had appeared immediately. Perhaps she was simply dreaming?

She waited a few minutes and then repeated the test with the other stick in the pack.

Two lines. Pregnant.

What was she going to do?

***

"There's a lovely little restaurant that Grenier was telling me about. He heard about it from Xiou, and she knows her restaurants, regardless of cuisine," Eames said, reaching for his phone. "He texted me the address, if you'd like to try it out for dinner tomorrow."

Her stomach had been in knots all day, and Eames had been attentive enough to her that Ariadne felt a thin thread of hope that everything was going to be okay. "I've been tired a lot lately," she began, not sure how to tell him the news without simply blurting it out.

"Well, yes. I've been telling you that you need a little down time," Eames replied. "I know that idiot point man was trying to push you at the last few meetings, but it isn't something that you need to pull all-nighters for. The Reiter job is almost done." He ran his hand down along her arm in a tender gesture. "You can take a break, darling. It won't slow the team down a jot."

Ariadne shook her head. "That's not it..."

"Or is that a hint that I've not been attentive enough?" he asked, moving his hand to trace the rise of her breast. "Considering the past few weeks, I rather thought we've been very compatible in that arena," Eames told her with a smirk.

She took a deep breath. "I've been tired, and my period was late," Ariadne told him abruptly. He stilled, looking at her with a poleaxed expression. "I thought it was just stress. But then I took a pregnancy test..."

He was like carved marble next to her, his blue eyes searching her face. "Ariadne," he began.

"I'm pregnant," Ariadne blurted, anxiety in her features.

Eames fixed her with a stare that immediately made her feel uncomfortable. "It's all right, Ariadne," he said after a moment. "We'll find a good clinic."

Ariadne relaxed slightly. "Oh," she began, a little relieved. "I—"

"There's bound to be recovery time," he continued earnestly. He sat down and took one of her clammy hands in his. "I would imagine there would have to be, depending on what they do, but this far along it's more likely to be surgery than hormonal."

"What?" she breathed, shock setting in. This wasn't happening.

"The doctors will be able to tell us in detail," Eames told her, linking his fingers through hers. He dropped a kiss onto her temple, misinterpreting her shock as relief. "A little time off to recover, then you'll be back at work in no time. We can put all of this behind us."

"All of what?" she asked in a strangled tone of voice.

Eames frowned at her. "The inconvenience, of course. You're nearly done with the second level layout on the Reiter job..." His voice trailed off at her murderous look. "You weren't talking about that, were you?" he asked, voice dropping into a neutral tone.

"Our child is _an inconvenience?"_ Ariadne asked incredulously, voice spiraling up in disbelief. She hastily withdrew her hand from his and jumped to her feet.

"You can't honestly tell me you're considering keeping it," Eames responded flatly. "With our lifestyle? The somnacin and sedatives? Being on the run and changing names as necessary? It would never work with you pregnant and we can't cart around an infant." He started looking at her almost defensively when she gaped at him in shock. "What? Why are you looking at me that way? Infants need all sorts of things, darling. There's the trappings they need on a day to day basis, not to mention regular medical care and supplies. You can't simply grab the child and run for cover if a job doesn't go very well, since they constantly need things."

Eames reached out and grasped her hands gently in his when she couldn't respond to his words with anything but an incredulous stare. "You have to be practical. In our line of work, you can't simply assume that the opposition will leave the child alone. It'll be a weakness, a pawn used to harm, threaten or manipulate you." He shook his head. "You can't possibly think about living this life and keeping it. I'm being completely honest, Ariadne. You won't be safe and neither will the child. You won't be doing it any favors."

It made sense in a logical sort of way, but Ariadne's gut clenched. She looked down at their hands and felt a chill roll down her spine. At that very moment their child was inside of her, and it might grow up to have her hands. Or his. Or some mixture of the two.

Ariadne looked back up at him. "Maybe it's time to step back. Take a break."

"You'd hate it."

"Perhaps this is God's way of telling me to slow down."

Eames snorted and pulled back. "God," he said derisively. "God has nothing to do with this. It's a faulty birth control pack, Ariadne. You know better than to believe in that shite. It's for lesser minds and marks."

"I grew up with it," she said slowly, feeling herself withdraw further from him. Funny how just days before she thought her life was perfect. Funny how everything was falling apart so spectacularly drastically and it was all she could do to keep from screaming.

So funny, yet she forgot to laugh.

"Yes, and you learned to overcome that superstitious rot," Eames replied. He pulled her closer and kissed the back of her hand. "Look, Ariadne. I'll find the name of a reputable clinic and we'll go together. You won't be in this alone."

"I'm not getting rid of it."

Her voice sounded tinny and far away to her own ears. This had to be shock setting in. She could barely feel her fingers and toes.

Eames' expression hardened. "Ariadne. Be reasonable. I already told you it's a horrid idea."

"I can't get rid of it like it's an _inconvenience._ It's a child. _Our_ child."

"I don't want it."

She took in his thunderous expression and could see the edge of fear and helplessness behind his anger. But he'd already made up his mind; she could see it in the set of his jaw and the way he carried his shoulders. Once he made decisions, he rarely backed down from them. Normally, it helped them get the job done. Normally, it was an admirable trait.

Right now, she wanted to cry.

"I'll do this alone if I have to."

Eames rolled to his feet, expression stony. It was a mask settling into place, and Ariadne hadn't seen one of those in a very long time. It made her feel that much more insecure and alone, and she could feel her heart shattering.

"Then you're doing it alone." His tone brooked no argument. "I won't have anything to do with it, Ariadne." For the first time since she had met him, she felt like she was looking into the eyes of a stranger. "I do wish you luck, but you're doing it all without me."

All of his belongings were gone from the hotel suite when she woke in the morning.

***

Arthur was as steady as ever, which she appreciated. "I don't know what I'm going to do," Ariadne whispered. "I can't... It's a _sin._ I'm _Catholic!"_ she wailed as panic set in. To her horror, she burst into tears. "I mean, I know I'm lapsed, I even used contraception, for God's sake, I've broken I don't even know how many laws, but I can't _murder_ in cold blood just because it's inconvenient..."

Arthur silently passed her a glass of water. "Take a sip, Ariadne," he told her evenly. "You're babbling and you're making yourself even more upset."

"God, how could he say that? And leave? You don't understand, Arthur. In the middle of the night as I slept. And telling me that our child is inconvenient! I know that, I mean, I know he has a point if you think about it from a certain point of view, but it's a child. An innocent. I was innocent once, we all were. And even him, I'm sure he was even an innocent child once." She brought her hands to her mouth as more tears came to her eyes. She wiped them away angrily, upset with herself for being this upset. "What am I going to do, Arthur? What will I tell my parents? Bad enough I couldn't really tell them about Eames in the first place. They know I'm hiding _something,_ and it's only so long I can keep up a façade and hide things from them." She wiped at her eyes again. "I can't even think..."

"You're upset," he said softly, taking her hands down and away from her mouth. "You're entitled to be," he continued in that same even voice. It was the same voice he had always used when she was rattled by something, starting with her very first drop into dreaming, when Mal had stabbed her. _You're okay,_ he had said, over and over in a calm voice. She hadn't appreciated it at the time, but that was soothing in its own way. Arthur was more like a rock in the midst of her unquiet storms.

"I thought he'd help me," Ariadne told him in a tiny voice, feeling stupid. "I didn't think he'd run away. I didn't think he'd leave me."

Arthur pulled her into his arms and pressed his lips against her temple. It was a surprise, but felt nice. Eames should have done this, she realized. He should have pulled her close and made her feel safe, and he should have told her it would all be okay.

"I'll help you," Arthur said into her hair. "Whatever you need, I'll do it."

"I can't ask that of you…" she protested.

"You're not asking. I'm volunteering," Arthur corrected. He pulled back to look her in the eye. "And as for your parents... I'm sure they would have no objections to your having a baby if you were married."

"Yes, but..."

"So we'll be married." Arthur gave her a rueful smile when she gaped at him. "Is it that horrible to contemplate being married to me?"

"N-no," she stammered hastily. "But that's a lot to ask of you. It's such an imposition..."

Arthur gently touched her chin. It was more like a caress, and her eyes widened as she suddenly realized what his expression truly meant. "No, it isn't."

"You never said anything," she whispered, feeling like a complete imbecile. She'd managed to realize that there was something not quite right about Cobb within a week or two of her training, could tell when Arthur was being sarcastic even if his wit was drier than the Sahara, how to get into Eames' pants during the Fischer job and see beneath his masks. As much as Arthur had kissed her on the second level of the Fischer job, he had made no other overtures and had always kept things strictly professional. Eames had been delighted by her attentions and after a decent period of time had met up with her in Paris to continue their liaison.

And now mere months later, her world was turned upside down and inside out. Again.

His touch was light, and there was the barest hint of a smile in his lips. "You were looking elsewhere," he said quietly. "I didn't want to ruin that for you."

"Even at your own expense?"

"Sometimes it's more important for someone else to be happy," Arthur said simply. She thought of the way he shadowed Cobb for two years, of how diligent he was when he worked and how thorough he was with his research. Arthur was a man used to suppressing his own desires, and it suddenly made Ariadne ashamed. She felt small and stupid, a selfish child that had given in to every whim she had.

"I don't deserve you," she said in a shaky voice.

Arthur leaned in and kissed her forehead tenderly. "Yes, you do. Even if it's only friendship that you want."

Ariadne couldn't help her eyes filling with tears. "Now I wish I loved you first."

His sad smile mirrored her own as he stroked her cheek. "You can't force something like that, Ariadne. It's there or it isn't."

"Do you think this is God's way of making me slow down?" she asked in a tremulous voice. If he mocked her religion the way Eames did...

But his lips quirked into that same slight amused smile. "Maybe. God works in mysterious ways, doesn't He? We never figure out what the plan is until it's done and we can look back over what the pattern is. Sometimes we never figure it out, even then. You can't presume to know everything, Ariadne. But that's okay. There's time enough to figure it all out."

It was such a different response than Eames' had been, and not what she would have expected from him at all. Truth be told, she would have expected their responses from the other man, and it suddenly felt humbling how little she actually knew them.

"I don't even know you well enough to be married," Ariadne said, suppressing the urge to giggle. She had the feeling that once she started, she wouldn't stop.

Arthur smiled, a genuine one that was miles wider than the ones she had seen on his face before, with the barest hint of a dimple. "There's time enough for that, too. First things first, get used to the idea that you're pregnant, that you're going to be somebody's mother. There's going to be prenatal checkups and all of that, so you'll want to settle down somewhere if not here."

"Is it silly if I say I want to go home?" she asked tremulously. "But then," she continued before Arthur could answer her, "I don't even know where home is. Is it Boston where my parents are, or Paris? I've lived there for so long, and the past few months in Marrakech..."

He touched her arm gently and her lips quieted. "The first thing that comes to mind."

"Boston," she whispered. "Near my Mom." She cast her eyes down, almost ashamed of herself. She had been so full of swagger and bravado when she left Boston for Paris, full of her own importance and talent. Getting roped into dream share had only bolstered that pride, as all the people she had worked with treated her skill with reverence. Now she was in trouble and wanted to retreat to Boston for her mother to take care of her. Some adult she made.

Arthur's gentle strokes on her arm continued. "Well, that makes sense. She knows more about pregnancy, after all. I can get you books if you like, but with something like pregnancy, I'm sure you'd want to talk with someone you trust about what it's like first hand."

Ariadne looked up with a shy smile. "So it's not a stupid idea?"

"No, it's not," he answered gravely. "I'll get our paperwork in order." He couldn't help but smirk at her startled expression. "Eames isn't the only one able to get papers. He does them himself, but it's all the same in the end." He leaned forward and gave her a soft, chaste kiss on the forehead. "I'll get it started, and then we'll coordinate stories to tell your family."

"I can't even begin to thank you," she began with a tremulous voice.

Arthur stood and shrugged. "I don't mind, Ariadne." It made her feel inherently sad to hear that, because she didn't love him the same way that he loved her. "I'll take care of you. I promise."

"I believe you." She gave him a watery smile. "I've always trusted you."

"Then trust me when I say that this will all work out in the end. I'll make sure of it."

***

Arthur didn't give Eames a chance to explain. He swung at the forger's jaw, connecting. His punch tended to have a lot more weight behind it than people suspected; he had physical combat skills and wasn't averse to fighting dirty. He had known he would simply walk up to Eames and start a fight, so he had a bar of metal curled inside of his fist to add a little more momentum and force to his swing. Surprised by the punch, Eames' head rocked back and he hit the wall. He landed in a graceless heap since he hadn't been able to prepare for taking the punch, and he glared up at Arthur. "The fuck?"

"She comes to you expecting help or at least a discussion and you up and leave in the middle of the night while she's sleeping," Arthur snarled, voice laced heavily with disdain. Eames blinked at him, nonplused. Arthur had never shown this much emotion before, though Eames had never seen him outside of a job. "That's low, even for you."

"Now see here, Arthur. It's got nothing to do with you." He pushed himself to his feet and glared at the point man. "Ariadne is a grown woman and can make her own decisions. There were no promises made when it started, and we both had no expectations of a serious relationship."

"A baby changes things."

"And I told her she shouldn't have it," Eames said bluntly, massaging his jaw. "Let's face it, Arthur. She may still be naïve enough to have ridiculous notions about raising a family and still working in dream share. But you and I both know it's impossible to do. There's no way she can be safe."

"So you cut and run instead of staying and help it become safe." The words _you selfish piece of shit_ went without saying, implicit in Arthur's tone.

"Are you on something, Arthur?" Eames asked. His eyes searched Arthur's tense face for a moment, and it all seemed to crystallize. "Oh bloody hell..."

Arthur hit him again, and Eames didn't have much time to prepare. It was enough so that he didn't hit the wall or fall to the floor, but his head snapped back from the force of the blow. "How could you be so fucking irresponsible?" Arthur snarled, lips pulled back in a grimace.

"Irresponsible? It was her bloody medication that failed," Eames growled, touching his lip. It was already swelling, but not split. "I told her the way of things, that's all."

"It doesn't have to be that way. Dom and Mal had children."

"And look at where it got them," Eames snapped. "But then, I suppose you'd throw yourself under the bus if you're in love with her."

Arthur didn't bother to deny it or throw another punch; he could tell by Eames' shifted stance that he was prepared to take another blow, so it likely meant he'd return the favor. "She's keeping it, Eames. She won't abort or give it up."

"Then she's a damn fool and won't work in the business again. Her talent will be _wasted."_

By the tone Eames was using, it was clear that he truly believed what he was saying. He had never actually promised anything; Ariadne had been fairly clear on that point. Their relationship had simply happened without them planning anything, coasting from moment to moment. Arthur was also fully aware of Eames' knack for self-preservation. It wasn't inherently malicious, and he never went out of his way to screw someone over, but he didn't necessarily help others if he thought he would suffer for it.

There would be no changing his mind, just as there was no changing Ariadne's mind. They were both far too strong willed for that.

"Then we're done here," Arthur said in an icy tone. The effect was wasted on Eames, who simply nodded. They would likely have to work together in the future; Eames was still the best forger in the business, and Arthur was the best point man. Difficult jobs would require their expertise. He didn't have to like someone to work with them, and Eames was at least a professional beneath the snarky and irreverent behavior.

If only his personal life had the same outcome.

Arthur walked away without a backward glance, heart clenched painfully in his chest. He hadn't wanted to really believe that Eames would give up on a child so easily. He wanted to believe that it had simply been shock that made him react badly. Arthur knew that if Eames had stepped up to acknowledge the child, he would have stepped aside. Children turned out the best if there were two parents that loved them, after all.

He didn't return to his own hotel suite right away. Ariadne was there, upset at being left so abruptly and having her future shift radically beneath her feet. Arthur would help, and she was grateful for that. They had always been friends. She just hadn't considered the possibility that there could be more, which had always been Arthur's secret pain.

It didn't even matter to him that she was pregnant with _Eames'_ child, especially now. The forger had adamantly given up any claim to it, and wanted nothing to do with it. If Arthur was brutally honest with himself, he was glad about that. As much as he would have gracefully let Eames care for Ariadne and the baby if he had expressed interest, a selfish part of Arthur was glad that Eames hadn't. Arthur could then take care of Ariadne, could be in her vicinity and not feel awkward or like a creeper for hanging on her every word.

It was sad and pathetic, but somehow he couldn't care. She was in pain and she needed him, and that was all he allowed himself to focus on. Arthur was very good at compartmentalizing his feelings and thoughts. That and organizing disparate data into a coherent whole were some of the things that he did best.

Arthur found himself near a park, and he slowed down to really take in his surroundings. It was late but not too late, so there were still families about. They were packing it in, and he found his eyes lingering on one family in particular. Apparently they had been lounging for a while in the park, as they had a picnic basket, various toys and were currently folding up a blanket. The parents were dark haired, their child had dirty blond hair. Arthur couldn't tell immediately if the child was a boy or girl, but eventually he could see it was a little boy that was perhaps three years old. "Mommy! Daddy!" he shouted as he ran in circles with a toy car on a string. "Watch me! Watch me!"

They paused in their cleanup to do just that, and Arthur was suddenly struck by how young they looked. _That could be us in a few years,_ he thought suddenly. As quickly as that thought came, he also knew that Ariadne didn't love him, and that the charade would only last a few months. It probably wouldn't even last long enough for the baby to be born, which suddenly made him suck in a pained breath. It was enough to make him sit down on a bench. Oh, he had understood that the potential of the thing wouldn't necessarily be the same as going through with his suggestion, but seeing it in front of him made it seem very real all of a sudden. He would be pretending to be married to Ariadne for her parents' sake, and he would be taking responsibility for Eames' child. Past that, there were no guarantees in this ridiculous plan.

If that was all he could have of Ariadne, he would take it. The charade wouldn't last very long, but at least he would have some time with her, and that would be better than nothing.

***  
***


	2. Warm Me Like The Sun

They arrived in Boston with matching luggage and last names. The passports would pass any inspection, and Arthur had already arranged for an appropriate rental property not that far from where Ariadne's parents lived. His contacts would have put up standard security protocols, but Arthur always liked to add to them and change all passwords and encryptions. It was old hat at this point, something he could do without even thinking about it. The lease on the apartment was month to month, so as soon as Ariadne declared the charade over, they would leave. Arthur tried not to think about that part.

It wasn't really love, he told himself. Not the way Eames seemed to think it was. He was merely infatuated, and he never got the chance to really get to know her.

Still, he was inordinately pleased by the flush of pleasure in Ariadne's cheeks when she saw the apartment and realized where she was. He held her maybe a fraction too tightly when she hugged him, held her hand even if he didn't particularly approve of PDA. Arthur wouldn't have another chance at this before he had to go back to his usual routine of hiding from authorities and planning new jobs. This was something like a vacation in comparison.

Ariadne put off meeting with her parents right away, preferring to settle into the apartment and show Arthur the neighborhood. She carefully directed him away from her parents' apartment, and Arthur didn't question it. She didn't look nervous on the outside, but he knew her well enough by now to recognize her tells. There was the twirling of a lock of hair as she thought, the biting of her lower lip, the careful avoidance of topics that bothered her. Otherwise, she tended to dive headlong into things.

She called her mother in the afternoon, once she seemed much less tense. Arthur had guessed that she would eventually work herself up to that, and hadn't seen the point in pushing. She wasn't like Cobb; Ariadne didn't procrastinate long and generally did whatever had to be done without too much complaint. Or perhaps it was, and Arthur was too long suffering. His perception of normality had long since been skewed.

The dinner invitation to meet Penelope and Jason was inevitable, and Arthur supposed that their history of academia had led them to name their only daughter Ariadne. "Mom studied the classics," Ariadne explained when he had asked about her name for their passports. "Dad picked my middle name."

"Which is?"

"Dorothy."

"So they like traveling?" he had offered. Arthur had kept a straight face, which obviously helped Ariadne feel more settled around him.

"Yeah. We'd gone all sorts of places before I graduated middle school," she had said with a shrug. "It slowed down when I was in high school since I started working in the summer or taking extra classes, then I moved to Paris for college. They encouraged me to go. They figured I knew what I was doing, that I was smart enough..."

Arthur had reached out and touched her arm. "You are. This situation isn't about being stupid."

"Then it's a miscalculation," Ariadne told him bitterly. "I thought I knew better."

His fingers slid down to touch the inside of her wrist, making her look from somewhere over his shoulder to his eyes. "This isn't about being stupid or knowing better. You're an amazing architect and a wonderful friend. I'm sure you'll be just as good as a mother."

Ariadne bit her lip, and Arthur knew that he had guessed correctly about the true source of her fears. "What if I'm not?"

"You'll have help. You're not doing this alone, you know."

"I can't ask you to put everything on hold forever," Ariadne said in a small voice. Tears shimmered in her eyes. "I can't be that selfish."

"I'm not putting things on hold indefinitely, you know. I have contacts in Boston and dream share isn't all I do." He gave her a small smile at her baffled expression. "Don't worry about me, Ariadne. I know what I'm doing."

"I'm glad someone does," she murmured. She looked down at her stomach, then placed a hand over her still-flat belly. "You really think I can do this?"

"You got Cobb out of limbo and helped him come to terms with Mal," Arthur told her gently. "I really think you can do this."

Her smile warmed Arthur, and he knew in that moment that this was more than simple infatuation. Eames had been right, and he was in love.

***

Penelope and Jason were surprised but pleased to be introduced to Arthur as Ariadne's husband. Their apartment was cozy, full of books, paintings of archaeological sites and major architectural works, and photos of Ariadne throughout the years. Ariadne hadn't really come up with a lot to tell them about the intervening months, and she was full of brittle smiles.

"Your daughter is amazing," Arthur said quietly before dinner started. "I knew it the first day I met her. Even then, she had a mind of her own. Not always a good thing on a team effort," he added with a fond smile in Ariadne's direction. That earned him a startled laugh, but there was something like wonder in her eyes. Her parents were fascinated. "But Ariadne is brilliant. She went above and beyond everyone's expectations, and I knew she would do great things in the field. She definitely has."

Penelope smiled at Arthur. "I see how you charmed her."

There was sadness in Ariadne's eyes at the pronouncement, and she offered to get more soda from the kitchen. Arthur gave her the out and continued spinning the tale of her work placement job, how he had been the security consultant for the building. He had lost track of her for a little while, since their roles didn't quite overlap all the time. Once he had met her again, he had made sure he didn't lose sight of her.

"The rest is history," Arthur concluded. He had kept his conversation light and somewhat on the inane side, which seemed to help settle Ariadne's nerves. Her parents didn't suspect for a moment how far he had stretched the truth, how much it had hurt him to see her with Eames. Ariadne had a strong desire to put down roots and belong somewhere, and there was no corresponding aspect in Eames' personality. It had been doomed to fail, and the pregnancy was just the death knell neither had wanted to admit would someday ring.

"This isn't the only announcement we have," Ariadne said as they sat down for dinner.

"Oh?" Jason asked, looking between the two of them. "This is a big one as it is. A justice of the peace in Paris isn't a substitute for a wedding, Ariadne."

She grasped Arthur's hand tightly, drawing support from his presence. He gave her a slight incline of his head, a subtle nod her parents didn't notice. Ariadne turned back to her parents and pasted a wide but false smile on her face. "We wanted it small and cozy. We can always do a reception here if you want. But the real announcement wasn't even the wedding." She paused to take a deep and bracing breath, though her parents clearly thought it was a dramatic one to add to the effect. "I'm pregnant."

After the initial shock passed, Penelope jumped out of her seat to embrace Ariadne. Jason grinned at them, and Ariadne's relief was palpable. Being approximately ten weeks pregnant, Ariadne wasn't showing yet. She was tired throughout most of the day, occasionally felt nauseous but otherwise felt well. Penelope immediately began asking about prenatal vitamins and health care options if Ariadne had been moving around a lot in recent months, and they began to go into those details. Arthur watched Ariadne closely, relaxing as she did.

Jason clapped him on the shoulder. "Well, Arthur, I'm sure there's supposed to be a father of the bride speech, but I don't think that's necessary. It's plain to see how much you love Ariadne, and I know you'll do everything you can for your baby."

It felt like a punch to the solar plexus, but Arthur merely nodded. "They won't want for anything, sir. I'll make sure of it."

"Jason's fine. Or Dad, if you feel comfortable with that."

Arthur nodded, pushing aside any misgivings about lying about his role in Ariadne's life. "My father had died when I was very young. I don't remember him very well." He was aware of Ariadne listening, wondering how much of this story was true and how much was a tale to fit the persona. On this count, it was absolutely true. All of the best lies were based on a grain of truth, after all.

Jason nodded in sympathy. "Are you and your family close? You haven't really brought them up so far tonight."

Arthur shrugged; he hadn't seen or thought of them in a long time. "It was me, my mother and my older sister while growing up." He paused, thinking of his mother's eventual slow descent into alcoholism, his sister marrying young and leaving home as soon as possible. He hadn't seen her in years. He had last seen his mother just before the Fischer job, and she had been awful to him. She drank just as much as she used to despite the beginnings of cirrhosis, and seeing him had only reminded her of her late husband. "Things were more difficult as I got older."

"Sorry to hear that," Jason said, a slight grimace in his expression. "I didn't mean to drag up anything unpleasant at a time like this."

"Nothing you could have known about," Arthur said with a shrug. "We aren't particularly close right now and haven't been for years, truth be told. I wouldn't want to inflict them on anyone, let alone a young baby," he added with a bittersweet smile to his lips.

Jason nodded again, even though he clearly didn't understand that kind of dynamic. "We're a small family, but we're a good one. Ariadne's chosen you, and I trust her judgment." Jason glanced at his daughter with a fond smile. "Welcome to the family."

Ariadne had a relieved and watery smile, as if she was afraid she was dreaming and afraid to wake up. Her parents meant the world to her, and getting their approval was important. She hadn't been sure they would like Arthur, but he was a chameleon in much subtler ways than Eames could be. Eames became whatever he thought the other person wanted, using broad strokes and grand gestures to distract from the details if necessary. Arthur was all about the little details, the parts that people remembered long after he was gone. He was understated, which left him something like a blank slate for people to react to. He gave just enough detail for others to fill in the gaps with their own perceptions and assumptions.

And most importantly, he was here with her, supporting her and helping her even though he didn't have to. It clearly pained him sometimes to think of her with Eames, that she had never even considered Arthur in a romantic light. Seeing that made Ariadne feel small and selfish and stupid, even if he repeatedly told her she wasn't.

She would make this up to him somehow.

***

Ariadne's exhaustion continued for another two and a half weeks. She often nodded off on the couch while watching TV with Arthur, and he didn't have the heart to move her. He liked the feel of her sliding onto him and curling into his warmth, how his arm fit perfectly around her shoulders. Arthur never allowed her to apologize for falling asleep on him, whether it was on the couch or on the bed. There was only one bedroom, though it was large enough for a king sized bed and the massive furniture that accompanied the set. Ariadne had been awkward at first, but Arthur had been his usual quiet self and didn't make a big deal about how or where they slept. When she caught him rubbing a crick out of his neck after two nights on the couch, she admitted to being silly and they shared the bed. She was a sprawler as she slept, and for the moment could still sleep on her stomach. Sometime during the night she wound up with her head on his chest, an arm flung around his waist and the sheets tangled around her.

"You're comfortable to sleep on," Ariadne admitted, a flush staining her cheeks. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

Arthur waved off her concern much the same way he had for everything else. He didn't need her to worry about his feelings. He was sleeping in the same bed as her. She was clutching him in her sleep. Of _course_ he was okay with this.

They fell into a routine easily enough, and Arthur found that he enjoyed looking up recipes for different dishes to try to make for her. Penelope wasn't much of a cook, but Jason had dozens of ethnic cookbooks in addition to his parents' Betty Crocker cookbook. Jason found it amusing that Arthur and Ariadne were falling into some of the same domestic patterns that he and Penelope had. He shared some of his family favorites for Arthur to try out, which he could see meant a lot to Ariadne. He went with her on walks or to visit museums and galleries. He went with her to the initial OB appointment and declared himself the father of the baby and Ariadne's husband, holding her hand tightly when she trembled at the lies.

He wanted them to be true so badly, as much as he had once wanted Dominic Cobb to return home to his children. He suddenly understood the desperation that had led him to lie to the entire team for the Fischer job.

She wouldn't make any moves toward him, he knew. Ariadne was too worried about his feelings, that she was taking advantage of him in some way. She tried everything she could to help him around the apartment, encouraged him to continue with his consulting work and reminded him that she could rely on her parents for errands if he didn't want to do them with her. Arthur didn't think that she was over Eames either; he found her sometimes staring off into space with a sad expression, hands twisted together in her lap. She never explained what she was thinking about in those moments, or what sent her frowning at her stomach or her reflection, and Arthur could only think that it was out of a misguided attempt to protect him.

"You don't have to be so careful around me," Arthur finally said one day. She was twenty-one weeks along, more than halfway through her pregnancy. She was barely starting to show and worried about the sonogram she was scheduled to have the next day. It should have been done the week before, but there had been some kind of conflict for the technician.

"What are you talking about?" Ariadne asked, startled.

"You're doing it again. Staring off into space and frowning at yourself." Arthur almost wanted to ask why she still cared about someone who had abandoned her when she needed him most, but that might be going too far. "You're healthy. As far as we know, the baby is healthy. Your parents are involved and happy for you. Everything is going fine. There's nothing to worry about with any of them, so you must be thinking about Eames and trying to protect me." He managed not to clench his jaw when her mouth fell open, no doubt to protest his words. "I can handle whatever you have to say, even if it's to say you still love him."

"I don't," she blurted. Ariadne then shook her head suddenly, as if to correct herself. "Well, not like before. I do, a little, sometimes. It's... It's a mess. It wasn't supposed to be serious, but I guess it was on my end. I don't know." She got up from her seat near the window, biting her lower lip a little uncertainly. "I wasn't thinking that, though. I keep thinking that this baby should be yours, and I wish it was. I wish I got the chance to get to know you first. It's not fair to compare the two of you, I know that, and I keep trying not to, but things just work out better now than they did when I was with him, aside from my not working, I mean, but..."

Just to get her to stop rambling, Arthur stepped forward and grasped her shoulders. She looked lost and vulnerable but hopeful at the same time, and he leaned in to kiss her without thinking about what he was doing. She was startled, but didn't freeze. If anything, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and stood on her tip toes to deepen the kiss.

Ariadne unconsciously licked her lips afterward. "I'm sorry, my timing is awful."

"Better late than never."

"I do learn eventually," she offered with a half smile. "It's not too strange, is it? This isn't a rebound situation, I swear it isn't. This is different." Ariadne gave him a plaintive look. "With Eames, we fell into something that was probably more physical than anything else."

"Please say that you're not going to go into detail," Arthur told her dryly.

She let out a startled bark of laughter as she shook her head. "No, no. I meant that whatever this is between us is different. It's not some intense physical thing. It's more than that. It's... I feel comfortable with you, like I can trust you with everything. What we have now is what I've always wanted... I'm not explaining this very well, am I?"

Arthur slid his hand to the back of her neck to draw her in for another kiss. "You're explaining it the best way you know how." He kissed her again, a soft and undemanding press of lips. "But I think we can do better on the physical part."

It was almost comical to see her wide eyed expression. "Oh," she murmured as his mouth came down over hers. One of his hands slid down her back and the other started stroking a breast. It was larger and more sensitive than it used to be, which had Ariadne gasping and arching into Arthur's touch. She stroked him through his trousers, giggling when his cock practically leapt to fit the curve of her palm. "Um... So this is welcome attention, then?"

"Very welcome," he murmured as he moved to kiss the line of her jaw. 

Ariadne wondered if she should tell him that she had liked sex on the rougher and flirtier side with Eames, then decided not to. She had no business thinking about him now, and everything was different. Her body was changing and her responses were different. Her breasts hadn't been as sensitive before, so the sex play had never really focused there. They were sensitive now, and she was definitely liking Arthur's attention to details.

She helped take off her shirt and bra, then threaded her fingers through the hair at the back of his head as he started kissing and licking at one breast. His hands were spread across her bared back, helping her to feel balanced. Arthur stayed in place until she was breathless and writhing beneath his mouth, then he paid careful attention to her other breast. She felt wet and slick between her legs, a growing need there leading to soft whimpers. "Arthur," she moaned. "God, please..."

He finally lifted his mouth from her, and she dazedly watched him smile contentedly at her. His lips were full and moist, and he moved swiftly to kiss her hard. Ariadne started attacking the buttons of his shirt and distantly registered that one popped off. She caressed his chest and arms as she slid off his shirt, and Arthur moved to feather kisses down her throat. This time he bypassed her breasts and licked a trail between them down toward her navel. As he did this, he undid the button on her jeans. She shifted her hips to help him slide off the rest of her clothes. Her breath hitched as he kissed the angry red marks her jeans had left behind; it was about time to start looking for maternity clothes, but she had resisted so far. "Your poor skin," he murmured, fingers light as he stroked her hips.

"I guess it's time to go clothes shopping," she murmured.

"I'll help," Arthur remarked, looking up from his half kneeling position. His lips were hovering just above her pubic bone, and his breath ghosted over her skin. Smiling, he let his fingers trail down her hips along the outsides of her legs. "You can model them for me and I'll figure out a way to do inappropriate things in the changing room."

Ariadne couldn't help but laugh delightedly. Somehow, she hadn't figured Arthur had that side to him. It was simply hidden behind the professionalism, and she was looking forward to finding out what else was in store for her.

The laughter turned to a gasp as he moved his mouth lower, his tongue darting out toward her mons. He urged her legs apart, and he dove right in to taste her. She gasped and writhed beneath his lips and tongue, then had to shove a hand against her mouth to muffle her cries when he slid his fingers inside her. He moved them rhythmically, in and out, sometimes curling or scissoring them the alter the angle and sensation as he licked and sucked on her clit. She felt ridiculously sensitive and restless, and Arthur kept repeating whatever made her moan and gasp. He was attentive and had his usual single minded attention to detail.

She nearly collapsed when she came, her legs wobbling. Arthur stood and had his arms around her to steady her. The next thing she knew, she was sprawled across the bed, Arthur kneeling between her spread thighs. "Doing okay?" he asked, fingers sliding through her slick folds. She nodded, reaching for him, and Arthur guided his cock into her. It was perfect, and Ariadne wrapped her legs around his waist. That pulled him in deeper, and Arthur groaned at the sensation. He began to move, thrusting deeply into her. Ariadne drew her nails down his back as he moved, her eyes sliding shut to concentrate on the feel of him thick and full within her, hitting that spot that made her feel as though pleasure was filling her entire body. When she tightened, Arthur's hips stuttered. "Shit, I'm not going to last," he panted.

"That means we have to try again?" she offered, moving to touch his cheek.

He laughed and kept pushing into her. A few more rapid thrusts of his hips and then he was shuddering slightly, eyes squeezing shut.

Ariadne cradled him against her when he collapsed on top of her, his head buried in the crook of her neck. His breath tickled, enough to get her to shift slightly and giggle, and Arthur tightened his grip on her and laughed. The tickling only grew worse, and they wound up shimmying a bit on the bed before finding a comfortable compromise.

Ariadne knew she wouldn't be able to lie on her back for that much longer. This felt perfect at the moment, and she would savor every second of this.

***

"Do you want to know the sex of the baby?" 

Ariadne nodded, transfixed by the sonogram window. The technician had used a 3D wand, and she wanted to reach out and touch the screen. That was her child there, moving around and putting its hand under its chin. The baby squirmed a little, but otherwise didn't seem to mind the prodding against her abdomen.

"Congratulations," the technician said with a warm smile. "Those are the girl parts," she said, pointing at the screen. Ariadne couldn't tell the difference between one shadow and the next on the screen. "You're going to have a baby girl."

Grasping Arthur's hand, Ariadne gave him a watery smile, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by emotion. "We're going to have a daughter."

Arthur smiled and leaned down to kiss her forehead tenderly. "And she's going to be just as smart and beautiful as you."

They let the technician get whatever images she needed for the radiologist to double check the initial measurements. Ariadne could still hear the whooshing sound that was the heartbeat and see the fluttering motion of her daughter moving.

This was a gift, and one she would absolutely take care of.

***

Penelope insisted on having a combination baby shower and wedding reception. "You've met up with some of your old friends," she told Ariadne loftily, "but this isn't the same. I never got the chance to be mother of the bride and do all this." She wagged her finger accusingly at her daughter. "Progressive modern woman or not, I still want a reception to go to. You absolutely have to indulge me."

"Don't we usually?" Ariadne asked dryly. She was absently rubbing her stomach, which was only starting to visibly round now that she was twenty-two weeks along. Catching Arthur's amused glance, she smiled and then shrugged. "Okay, why not? I have no idea what to get for a baby. We didn't start putting anything together yet." They might have been otherwise occupied by the awkward dance of pretending to be married at first, and Ariadne had been too terrified of the concept of being a parent to do much more than endlessly read pregnancy books. Now they were distracted by learning the shape and texture of each other's bodies.

Penelope was scandalized and insisted that they would have to have an outing to Babies R Us in order to set up a registry, which then reminded her of the need for a wedding registry for guests to be able to choose from.

"We've started a monster," Arthur intoned for Ariadne's ears only. She smothered a giggle and he managed to look nonchalant when Penelope looked askance at them. It was rather nice to be swallowed up by the enthusiasm, to have a fond and motherly presence there. He wasn't used to that, hadn't really known how to embrace it. His own mother was so passive aggressive and had often withheld affection. Over the weeks he had been in Boston, Arthur had slowly gotten used to their style of communicating. He could see why Ariadne was so open and guileless, why she was so enamored of dreaming and creating.

"I miss building," Ariadne murmured as they walked through the stores later. It was the toy aisle for older children that caught her eye, and Arthur saw her longingly linger near the blocks. He could imagine her teaching their daughter how to build impossible spires, draw amazing outlines on paper or laugh as she simply _lived._

Their daughter. Arthur didn't think of the child as genetically Eames' or worry about the forger returning to their lives. It was _his_ daughter with Ariadne now, a fragile life he would do just about anything to protect, a tiny baby that he knew Ariadne would bend over backward for. Sometimes their minds boggled at the concept.

Arthur bought her the blocks and drafting paper, then sat down with her and outlined the consulting job he was thinking of getting involved with. "You could possibly draw and build a model, and I could maybe dream up the maze we'd use," he began slowly. "So you'd still be involved, even if you shouldn't actually dream with us."

The brilliant smile she flashed him was worth thinking aloud for.

It started with an easy job as Ariadne and her mother started planning the reception. She juggled the different plans easily, and sketched out preliminary plans quickly as Arthur spoke. He was drawn to her delicate wrists, the curl of her fingers around her pen. It wasn't too difficult to think of those fingers wrapped around his cock or trailing down his chest, and his gut tightened with _want_ as he thought about interrupting her and having sex right there and then in the living room of their apartment.

She saw the smoldering look in his eyes and put down her pen. "Later," she murmured, leaning in to kiss him. It was soft at first, but quickly built up momentum. The kiss became a tangle of lips and tongue and teeth, their hands pulling each other closer. "Bed?"

"Later," Arthur echoed, too busy kissing her. It was easy enough to pull their clothes off, to lie back on the floor and help her lift herself over him. She straddled him easily enough, and Arthur brought his hands forward to support the soft swell of her stomach. "God, you're beautiful."

"I'm all round," Ariadne complained.

He reached up and cupped a breast, which was already growing larger in preparation for the birth. "Yes, you are," he murmured. Swiping his thumb across a sensitive nipple, he smiled at the sharp intake of breath.

"But... I'm not beautiful," she said finally. She wasn't fishing for compliments. "Cute, maybe. I've never been beautiful."

"You always were to me," Arthur replied in a soft, serious tone. He cupped her breasts in his hands and looked up at her, eyes clear and without any indication of artifice. "You are everything I've ever wanted, Ariadne. You're beautiful, more than you know."

Her expression softened, though he knew that deep down she didn't feel it as truth. It wasn't part of her self-description, something she hadn't ever considered important before. He wondered why it was important to her now, why _he_ mattered more to her now.

 _It's different,_ she had said about her feelings for him. _I feel comfortable with you. This is the way it should be, isn't it?_

More than simple affection, more than the first glimmers of love. Was she in love now? Was that the difference? Loving someone was easy. Being in love could be so much harder.

Their mouths fit together, lips and tongues tangling as they held each other. It was like a jigsaw puzzle, all the odd shapes coming together into a larger picture. Arthur's mind was good at those kinds of puzzles, of piecing together disparate and random looking information. He had wanted this so much for so long, and he had been too afraid to read more into Ariadne's statements and touches. He hadn't really trusted his good fortune until just this moment.

Bad habits of a lifetime were hard to break.

Ariadne straddled his waist and guided him into her. She rocked against him slowly at first, her lower lip caught between her teeth to try to keep quiet. Her hair was a dark and messy halo around her head, her golden eyes alight in pleasure and joy as she looked at him. She was beautiful like that, and it was startling to realize that their farce had become achingly real somewhere along the way. Arthur couldn't even really pinpoint it; the first time they made love hadn't been the start of it. But it didn't matter, really. "The reception," he gasped, arching up into Ariadne as she slid down, deepening the stroke. "That makes it real."

Her eyes smoldered at him. "Which anniversary will we celebrate, then? The one on the paperwork or our real one?"

Arthur laughed and ran his hands along her stomach, then up to her breasts. She gasped and moaned, rocking a little faster against him. "Can't we have both?"

She let out a long and breathy moan, nodding. "Yes. Yes, yes, like that, yes..."

He tilted his hips up, shattering her breath and making her arch and cry out. He could feel her flutter around his cock, squeezing tight. Arthur leaned up a little, bracing her and helping her to keep her balance. _I love you,_ he wanted to say. _I've always loved you._ But he wasn't the kind to say the words easily, especially with the ghost of her past relationship between them. There was something left there, she had admitted as much. She loved him, yes. Arthur could believe that. But just as some part of her would never believe herself truly beautiful, some part of him would always doubt her love for him. What if it wasn't as deep as her love for Eames had been? What if the feelings for Eames only grew stronger with time and she didn't want to hurt him? What if this was all an elaborate act to make him stay?

Ariadne only stopped when Arthur came, twisting beneath her thighs. She curled herself on top of him, fingers tangling in his hair. "I love you," she whispered in his ear, short of breath but sincere with every syllable. "I don't know what took me so long to realize it, but I love you."

Arthur let out a shaky breath. She had always been braver about things like this. He ran his hands down her back and turned to kiss her cheeks and lips. "I love you," he said in a soft, reverent tone. "I've always loved you."

Her smile was as beautiful as a sunrise and twice as warm.

***

It was a combination party celebrating Arthur and Ariadne's marriage and child. The guests were friends of the family, Ariadne's former classmates and friends. Penelope and Ariadne had broached the subject of Arthur's family and friends, and the only names he could come up with were involved in dream share. Ariadne left the decision in his hands and never once asked after his own family, understanding that he didn't talk about them for a reason. Dominic Cobb and his children arrived, as did a few of Arthur's most trusted contacts. They were amused at his generic security consultant cover, but did play along for the party.

Their living room stacked with gifts, Arthur and Ariadne sank down heavily on the couch. It was late and they were worn out from all the socializing and dancing and small talk. "I'm tired," Ariadne admitted, looking over at Arthur with a smile. "I had no idea how tiring that all can be."

"Fun tired, though," Arthur laughed.

Nodding, Ariadne shifted to lean against him and curled into his chest. "Oh, I can think of more tiring things that are even more fun," she purred.

He laughed again, carding his fingers through her hair. "Can you?" he asked, amused.

"Mm-hm. And you know, we should take the chance to have sex as much as possible now. There's going to be all that time when we can't once she's here."

Arthur shifted a little so that he could reach around Ariadne and touch her belly. "Is that so? Have you been thinking about that much?"

"Maybe," Ariadne answered in the same teasing tone.

He chuckled softly and shifted again. "My darling wife," he began, clearly pleased by the title, "I do aim to please." Arthur kissed her soundly, tongue sliding through her open lips. "So how would you like to be pleased tonight?"

Giggling against his mouth, Ariadne turned and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "I'm honestly too exhausted for sex right now," she murmured as she kissed the line of his jaw. She burrowed into him, tucking her face against his neck. "Mmm. I like this."

"Just this?" he asked dubiously.

"Mmm-hmm. For right now, at least. Give me a chance to nap and then I'll jump you."

Arthur laughed and held her tight against him. "Sounds like a plan."

She laughed along with him for a bit. "I liked your friends. You should invite them over. It doesn't have to be just me and my family and friends all the time."

"Friends might be an overestimation of the association," Arthur told her.

"Well, close enough, right? You trusted them with this."

"You have a point."

"So you can probably trust them with where we live. And it'll give you something to do besides cater to me."

"I like doing that," he protested. He liked the way she felt in his arms, the way she lit up when they talked. He wouldn't miss any of that for all the world.

"Well, good, because I like you doing that. But you know, work things. Dream share-y things. You can still do that, use the living room like a base of operations."

"You miss the field," he accused.

"Well, yeah, I do. So if I get to live vicariously through you..." Her voice trailed off. "It's an idea." She kissed his neck and smiled. "Just a thought."

"I'll keep it in mind. Your safety is my main priority, Ariadne. Yours and our daughter's."

The phrase never got old. Both loved hearing _our daughter,_ and it felt more and more real as time went on.

Ariadne felt something flutter in her abdomen, like a soft press against her intestines. It didn't feel very strong, but it was enough to make her pull back with a squeak of surprise. "Oh! I think she just moved!" Arthur obligingly felt her stomach, but didn't feel a thing. "I didn't just make that up," she insisted.

"Or was it gas after eating all that food tonight?" Arthur asked, eyebrow playfully arched. He yelped when she poked his side. "Hey! Valid question!"

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Completely different feeling. And by now, all the books say I should be feeling something."

It was just over twenty-four weeks gestation, and it would be about another fifteen weeks to her due date. There was still time to prepare for a baby, but at the same time, they both knew just how rapid the passage of time could be.

Arthur cupped her face in his hands. "Come on. Let's go to bed. It's been a long day, and we'll need to rest up if I'm going to get all this sex you promised me."

Ariadne suppressed the urge to giggle and disentangled herself from him. "Sounds like a plan."

***

Arthur wasn't used to an involved family. He knew they existed in an abstract sort of way, seeing the evidence of it as he sifted through data in subject profiles. He saw families spending time together in museums or parks, saw the happy faces as he passed them by. It wasn't an experience he knew much about and had never given much thought to before.

Now he was starting to see the appeal.

He was a fairly handy man out of necessity, and planned to put together the nursery furniture on his own. As soon as Jason heard from Ariadne that the nursery was going to be set up while she and her mother spent time together, he arrived with a few tools, hex wrenches of various sizes and two friends from work. They ordered a pizza, got some soda and beer and before Arthur realized it the furniture was built and he was having a good time talking about completely random things. Jason and his friends were full of advice about raising children, effective (or ineffective) parenting and where the better places in the city were for family outings.

"And you know, eventually you'll want to have some couple time away from the baby, believe it or not," one of Jason's friends mentioned. He grinned at Arthur's frown. "It doesn't mean you don't care about the itty bitty baby, it just means you need to be more than just Dad. There's only so much spit up and poop you can wipe up without having to recharge and remember why you married her mother in the first place."

Jason laughed and got himself another beer. "You know, anniversary dinners, birthdays, big events. If you have to meet with a client in the evening, that sort of thing. Penelope and I will babysit, of course. You don't have to worry about us chipping in and doing our part," he said easily. "That's just what families do."

It hadn't been what _his_ family did, but Arthur remained silent on that count. "I'll remember that," he said solemnly. "It's good to know."

The topic wandered away toward sports, and Arthur had to remind himself that this was ordinary life. This was what the average person did on a weekend. This was how they interacted with each other. Discussion about security measures and avoiding Interpol agents wasn't exactly standard dinner conversation.

He couldn't help but smile when he received a text from Ariadne: _OMG, so much cute stuff we don't need. You should be here to talk Mom out of it!! Miss you already!_

One of Jason's friends patted his shoulder. "Eh, I think you'll do all right, Arthur. You two are good for each other."

***

Looking back, it must have been more like a comedy of errors. Ariadne didn't even realize she was in labor at first. The contractions started out mild and spaced rather far apart, and didn't become more recognizable until it was bedtime. Arthur was horrified that it had gone on all afternoon without Ariadne carefully timing their intervals. He timed the ones he was aware of, and told her sternly "They're a half hour apart. Let's get your bag."

"That could mean more labor for hours or minutes," Ariadne replied, throwing up her hands in frustration. "It's only starting to hurt now. Can I at least sleep a little before you freak out and take me to the hospital? I knew I shouldn't have popped in that last disc, but I wanted to finish off the series..."

Arthur shot her an agitated look. It would have been much more comical if he wasn't actually worried about her. "The contractions..."

"Will happen if I'm awake or asleep. My mother was over twenty hours in labor with me. I think I can take a nap."

By the time she finished her nap, she was feeling much more uncomfortable when the contractions came. Arthur timed them at twenty-five minutes apart. Going to the bathroom, Ariadne discovered thick, stringy mucus. "All right. Let's go to the hospital."

During the ride there, Ariadne tensed and tried to remember how to breathe properly as the contractions hit. They were ten minutes apart as Arthur drove. He coached her as best as he could, but it was obvious how discomfited and agitated he was getting. It struck her as hilarious, and she wheezed with laughter between contractions. Arthur could handle dream share, the legal and illegal uncertainties, getting guns shoved into his face and bargaining with scary individuals as part of his "consulting" job. He couldn't handle watching Ariadne struggle through labor pain with each contraction. If his enemies knew this, they would simply throw women about to deliver babies into his arms.

He shot her a baleful look as he pulled into the hospital lot. It was a whir of paperwork to register her, nurses asking her stupid questions like "Are you in pain right now?" and "How can we help you feel better?" Ariadne let Arthur glare at them, since it felt like too much effort to call them on their idiocy.

Her delivery room was nice enough, if small. Arthur couldn't pace the way he liked to do, so he had to curl up next to her on a recliner instead of working off his agitation. Ariadne could almost see him winding tighter and tighter, and she pitied the poor hospital staffer that would inevitably make him snap.

The next several hours passed in a blur. Arthur was wound up and quietly condescending to staff that didn't seem to know what was going on. Ariadne managed to nap again once the epidural kicked in, though she itched something fierce and wound up leaving welts all over her arms when she scratched. That set off Arthur again, and she wound up having to ask to squeeze his hand to keep him from hunting down whatever staff he could in order to lodge complaints. She was surprised at how comforting it was to hold his hand; this entire experience felt surreal, almost like a dream, and Arthur's touch grounded her.

Ariadne must have dozed off occasionally. She was exhausted and surprised when the nurses checking on her mentioned that she was close to the actual delivery time. Arthur wasn't as snarly at that point, but Ariadne thought it was the exhaustion getting to him. He hadn't slept at all once the contractions started, and his constant vigil was wearing him down a little.

The actual delivery was a blur of pain, tears, clutching at Arthur like a lifeline and the continual encouragement of the nurses and her doctor. It felt like eternity before she felt something give way. A moment later came the indignant cry of her daughter, not at all pleased to be cold and held in the doctor's hands. Ariadne looked over at Arthur with fatigued pride, tears falling as she grinned. "I did it."

He brushed her sweaty hair away from her temples. "You did," he murmured, then kissed her forehead. "You're amazing."

The squalling baby was placed on her chest for a moment, just long enough for Ariadne to see the shut eyes and open bud mouth. "I'm your mommy," she murmured, stroking her daughter's head. Then the baby was whisked aside to the waiting isolette to be weighed, measured and evaluated by the waiting pediatric nurse as her doctor delivered the afterbirth.

There was a space of about an hour where Ariadne was alone in the quiet of her room. Her daughter was being looked after by the pediatrician, Arthur was calling everyone he needed to inform about the birth and her parents hadn't arrived yet. Some part of her realized that this would very likely be the last time she would have that kind of quiet. Her immediate future was going to be utterly consumed by taking care of an infant, and she wouldn't be able to do much more than consult in dream share for a while. Maybe she wouldn't be going back at all, it was too early to tell.

The thought of having such an indistinct future would have terrified her once. She would have been so angry about all the hard work she had put into her training and then into building up a network of contacts. It would likely be difficult to have a career and still be a mother, but her mother and friends had all done it. She could do that if she wanted to.

For the moment, though, it was nice to simply lie there and not plan a single thing.

Visitors kept her occupied, and Ariadne adored holding and trying to feed her daughter. Arthur hovered, not sure what to do but clearly needing to do _something,_ so she usually sent him out for drinks or snacks to stay hydrated. At other points in time, she sent him out to look for nurses to check if she was holding their daughter properly while trying to breastfeed her. She was nervous about this in a way she had never been about anything before. This was such a huge responsibility to assume. Had she made a mistake?

But then those eyes looked at her, trying to focus on her face. Or Arthur held her carefully, a soft and tender smile on his face. At those moments, everything seemed to make sense, and the terror of being a parent swiftly faded. She could do this.

Eames knocked on the door during one of those moments. She was scheduled to be discharged from the hospital in a few hours, and she was gingerly sitting on the hospital bed with her sleeping daughter cradled in her arms. Arthur had his smart phone in hand, checking through his messages as they waited for her doctor to show up and give her clearance to go home. The room was messy, but her things were already packed and in the car. Anything still left in the hospital room to bring with them was all baby related paraphernalia.

"Hey," he called softly from the door. Arthur and Ariadne looked up as they were talking about the sheer amount of _stuff_ infants seemed to require, and their voices died off as they saw Eames standing there. Neither had seen him since Ariadne's decision to keep the baby. He hadn't called or e-mailed either. "Yusuf told me about the birth," Eames said as an explanation.

If Ariadne didn't know better, she would have thought he was afraid of her reaction.

"Can I come in?' he asked in a quiet tone when no one said anything. She glanced at Arthur as she nodded. He stepped into the room and quietly took in the sight of the tiny girl in Ariadne's arms. She was sleeping peacefully, arms tucked tight against her body. "She's beautiful," he said in that same tone. "What's her name?"

"Theodora," Ariadne replied. It was like watching a stranger, she decided after a moment. She didn't know what Eames was thinking as he looked down at the baby; if she had ever really known how to read his expressions, she had lost that ability.

Eames nodded, then looked up at her with a perfectly blank expression. "I have a gift for her, if you want it." He slowly reached for a thick cream colored envelope in his jacket pocket when Ariadne didn't say anything to reject the gift. "I didn't have a name or social security number for a bond," he began as he drew out the envelope. "And I didn't think either of you would appreciate an anonymous Swiss account."

Arthur took the envelope for Ariadne. Inside was a number of bills that appeared to be American currency. "Thank you."

"Yes, thank you." Ariadne looked at him and gave him a smile that felt pasted on her face. Her heart was beating too quickly, though she couldn't have said why she felt so nervous. Eames clearly wasn't going to make a scene or try to claim her daughter and Arthur wasn't going to beat him senseless for abandoning them as soon as he could.

He had another long, lingering look at the sleeping infant in Ariadne's arms. She wanted to believe it was out of regret. "I wish you all the happiness in the world, Ariadne," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "You take care, the both of you."

Without waiting for a response, Eames left the room.

Whatever she had expected, this interchange hadn't been it. She turned to Arthur, feeling as though the wind had been knocked out of her. "What was that?" she asked after a moment.

"Maybe his way of saying he's sorry." Ariadne nodded, taking in his flat, sour tones. He would likely work with Eames again at some point, but she doubted that he would ever forgive the forger for his actions. "So what do you want to do now?" he asked carefully.

She carefully adjusted her grip on Theodora and reached out for him. Arthur caught her hand instantly, smiling faintly when she tightened her grip. "We're still waiting for my clearance to go home. Then we'll go home and take care of our daughter. Maybe your mother and sister will want to visit someday, maybe they won't. We'll deal with it if it happens."

Arthur tightened his hand around hers as he smiled at her. It was one of his most charming ones, causing his eyes to crinkle and the dimple to appear in his cheek. He didn't smile that way often enough, in her opinion. "It'll work out."

"Yes, it will."

This might not have been the life Ariadne first imagined for herself, but now she couldn't picture it any differently. She had a loving husband and infant daughter, would likely have some kind of architecture job and they lived close enough to her parents for support but far enough away that she had space to figure out what kind of parent she would be on her own.

The best things in her life had happened when she wasn't planning for it.

The End


End file.
